Double Sided
by JRWStudios
Summary: Alfred is enjoying a time of peace after the end of the Second World War. Having taken on the title of the World's protector, he's doing his best to get everything rolling smoothly. However, not everyone is happy about his 'intrusions', especially not the Soviet Union. And now, Alfred is getting strange feelings all over the place! What does it have to do with the girl he just met?
1. Prologue

Cold War Era AU: America (Alfred F. Jones) x Soviet Spy! OC (Joyce Mcclain)

The door shut quietly, barely making a sound besides the squeak of its old hinges. A pair of heavy boots approached the group that already stood in the damp, dimly lit room, and their owner looked at the faces of his men in disgust. In the center of these men stood a lovely young woman with an icy brown glare and a sneer on her red painted lips. She looked at him with the same disgusted look he had given his men, and it only made his gaze soften as it draped across her. Her lovely, freshly cleaned green dress was the brightest thing in the room, giving her pale skin a sickly glow in the shadows.

"Do you understand your mission?"

"Yes."

"That's very good to say, but you must prove it." with a snap of his fingers two of the men had her held in place, forcing her arms behind her back. She snarled, struggling against them.

"Who are you child?"

Her glare locked on the commander, her hair falling in her face as she fought back. "I am Joyce Mcclain, twenty-seven years old. I was born in England, but my father brought me with him to Russia when my mother died."

"And, just why are you moving to America?"

"My husband has died, and now my grandparents want a life outside of the Union. They're the only family I have left so I'm going before them to find a place!"

"Good, now then," she was released, and a new Soviet passport was handed to her as she stood rigid, waiting for the next attack. Her softly curled red hair was brushed back into place, her light brown eyes going ablaze with anger as she folded her gloved hands in front of her, holding the passport. She dipped her head to the man, and when she straightened her cherry lips had parted into a joyful smile.

"Well darlings, I best be off." her voice now held a lovely British accent. "it wouldn't do to miss my flight after all."

"Of course not." one of the men gently took her back to arm. "Allow Dimitri to escort you to your taxi, sestra."

America shuddered, stopping suddenly and nearly dropping his drink as he began to look around. England, whom had been walking along beside him, looked back in surprise.

"Hey git, are you alright?"

"Yeah I just…" he furrowed his brow, as if sensing something was not quite right. "It just… must've been a chill."

"I… I guess so! Bloody idiot, don't go getting sick on us." England tried to hide his concern.

"Yeah…"


	2. Chapter 1: Arrival in America

Chapter 1: Arrival in America

Joyce exchanged smiles with her fellow passengers as she disembarked the small plane that had carried them from Cleveland to New York. She carefully made her way through the crowded NYC airport, glad that she had no belongings to keep track of. So instead she made her way out of the extensive building, but couldn't shake a sudden feeling of dread. Was it because she was coming to a country she knew next to nothing about?

Or was it because of her mission?

The woman became so focused on trying to figure out what it was that was bothering her, it was clear she wasn't paying attention to much else. Especially when collided with someone, and he only just _barely_ managed to catch her before she fell.

Looking up in shock her gaze became entrapped by a gorgeous sky blue color, the likes of which she had never seen before. Without a single word being spoken that blue glance conveyed mountains of worry, to which she could only give a small nod as its owner helped straighten her. A pair of clearly strong hands gently brushed her loose bangs back into place, that gaze dancing across her before locking on her eyes once more. The woman was so deeply spell-bound, she hardly noticed the golden hair framing the flawless, soft smile holding face of the man whom still held her. But then, his hands left her skin, only then making her recognize the warmth that his touch had given her.

It had happened in merely a second, but to her, it had seemed like an eternity.

The woman looked up at him, noting the slight confusion, then happiness, that flashed across those entrancing blue eyes. It made her long to hear him speak: to see if his voice matched the gentle nature of his eyes.

"Are you alright, miss?" joy overcame her as he spoke in a deep, yet soft, tone.

"Y-yes, of course." she stuttered, but allowed a small smile to surface, pleased when he returned it. "Thank you."

Are you traveling alone?" his gaze dropped to her empty hands. "Or are you here to… meet someone?"

"Oh good heavens no, I'm alo-" she paused, suddenly taking on this sad look as if some new weight had suddenly settled upon her shoulders. "I… I'm alone…"

"Miss?" his voice deepened with concern. "I… perhaps, if I may, I could escort you somewhere? If you really are here alone… It is not safe for a lovely young woman to wander the streets by herself when she is not familiar with them."

"I-is it that dangerous?" she clutched her purse to her hip, the sudden move rattling something that was inside.

"It can be, if you're not careful." he eyed her purse for a split second before giving a kind smile.

"Then, if the circumstances call for it… yes, could you take me to a hotel? I'm afraid I will have to stay the night in one."

"I'll take you to the best one I know." there was another smile. "May I know your name?"

"Oh, it's Joyce, Joyce Mcclain." she flushed. "And, you are?"

"Alfred." he extended a hand. "Shall we?"

"Of course." Joyce gently placed her hand in his, blushing bright when the warmth breached her glove. Alfred chuckled, giving a mischievous smile as he lead her away from the crowds of the busy airport terminal. He watched the look on her face change from embarrassed to amazed as they stepped out onto the street, looking around in wonder at the city that was all so very new to her. The disbelieving wonder was evident on her every feature, yet, there was some sadness there that Alfred didn't quite understand. Could it be homesickness?

The woman gave him a look, her brown eyes sparkling in curiosity before her gaze went back to the buildings lining the streets.

"Amazing."

"Not really… Where are you from?"

"Russia, but I was born in England." she gave a sad smile, missing the sudden tension that settled upon her guide as she brushed her bangs from her face. "I've an odd story to me, don't worry about it."

"It sounds interesting to me." he grinned, trying to hide his discomfort as he stopped suddenly to look at her face-to-face. "May I take you to dinner and hear it?"

"Don't worry your head with my life, sir. There's nothing to tell really." something in her eyes made him realize she missed his discomfort: she was blatantly _ignoring_ it.

"But, I really would like to hear it."

"Oh my," her lips pursed in a teasing smirk. "Have I struck your fancy, love?"

"I'd say I struck yours first!" he countered, making her blush.

"I-"

"Diner."

"Oh fine!" she gave in with a sigh. "Dinner it is."

He gave her a teasing wink. "Of course, poppet."

Her happy eye roll made him chuckle, gently tugging her down the street. Before long, the pair was stepping into a nice restaurant on 67th street. Alfred found himself smiling as he helped seat his new acquaintance at a far table by a window, soon taking his place in front of her. He let her see that smile of his, overjoyed when she returned it with a shy glance. And as soon as drinks were out to them (a bootlegger vodka for her and some kind of fizzy drink for him), her shyness vanished. She took a sip of her drink, replacing her shy look with a curious arch of her eyebrow.

"What are you drinking?"

"A soda. Go ahead, you can try some."

She hesitantly lifted his glass to her lips, giving an experimental sip. She must've been pleased, since she drank a little more before returning it to him. "It's good."

"I know!" he grinned. "So, now that you've settled some, how about you share you 'story' hm?"

"Are you sure you want to hear? It is quite a bore."

"I doubt that."

The woman sighed, giving a dip of her head. "Well then… Ahem, I was born in England, that much you already know. I lived there with my parents until my mother became sick and died when I was seven. Now, my father had been a Russian official working at the embassy, so when she died Russia told him to return. Of course, being only a child he took me with him. It was a very dangerous trip back to the Motherland, after all this was 1936!"

"So how old does that make you now?"

"Twenty-seven, but save your questions for later, love." she smiled, pushing her drink aside."Now then, once we made it back to the Union I was forced into the home of my grandparents while my father was forced into the military. My grandfather was a delightful woman, teaching me many things while I lived there, as did my grandfather! However, it wasn't long before he was forced to enlist as well, to protect Moscow from the Germans."

Alfred nodded solemnly, knowing full well that his people hadn't faced a threat like tt on their own soil since the Civil War, and likely wouldn't again. Joyce gave him a saddened look, pulling out a hankie to dab at her eyes.

"It was around this time we received word that father's tank had been destroyed, killing him and everyone else inside. Oh, grandmother was so distraught! Being only a naive thirteen year old at the time, I found myself unable to really understand. They had given me a very sheltered life in our little Siberian village… Oh but that's off topic." she giggled slightly. "Some time later in 1945 grandfather returned, along with the other boys of the village that I had never really spoken to. About, five years later though, I didn't really have a choice."

"Why is that?"

"They began courting me." a sigh escaped her, breaking her smile. "Six years ago I made a choice, and married one of the poor blokes: he was a handsome young man, and very kind. We were actually together up until a few months ago."

"Six years together and no kids?"

"No, no matter how much we tried something always went wrong. The only child I ever actually managed to give birth to was stolen from us by the cold minutes after she was born… after that we just, we gave up. Decided we would try again once we moved away, to one of the cities where we might actually be able to have doctors and nurses help us."

"It sounds like you two really loved each other, if you could handle that. So what happened to him? He should be here with you right?" he saw her stiffen. "Joyce?"

"A few months ago there was a terrible snowstorm, and we were running out of food. The train couldn't reach the station nearby, and the entire village was starving to such a degree we had been forced to slaughter all of the animals just to make it through. But, we had too many people and too few animals: what we had was given mostly to the few children and their caretakers, and simply being a younger couple we were lower on the list… Then… then my husband… he made up his mind…" her eyes watered over. "He decided that he simply ate too much, and it would take too many resources away from me if he stayed. He just didn't want me to starve… I found him in the spring after the snow had melted…"

"He… left and returned?"

"No… he had gone to the barn and… and sliced his-" she broke off as a silent sob racked her body. The handkerchief was rung in her hands before she used it to wipe her eyes.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me anymore."

Joyce sniffled, blowing her nose. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I'm sorry I asked."

"It's alright dear."


	3. Chapter 2: To Settle In

Chapter 2: To Settle In

Alfred hummed softly, walking down the sidewalk. He looked around warily, unable to shake the feeling that something was a little off, until his gaze settled on a familiar green dress. The sight made his stomach drop, and his eyes go cold.

There, across the street, stood Joyce, eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and hands folded neatly over her purse, side-by-side with a tall, trench coat wearing man whom had his head lowered. From what he could tell the two were speaking Russian, but they were speaking so fast he could hardly read their lips. The only thing he caught out the whole thing was 'America'.

His heart was beating fast, his hair standing on end. At least, until he met her gaze, and she broke into a smile. Without a second thought she dashed across the street, ignoring the honks of spooked drivers as they avoided her and each other.

"Alfred!" now he could hear the Russian echo of her British accent. "Come meet my father;s old friend!"

The man tensed as the Russian made his way over. He gave Alfred a nod, resting a hand on Joyce's shoulder.

"Joyce has told me much about you Alfred." he smiled slightly. "I wish I could ask you to watch out for her, but I'm afraid she is too hard-headed to make it easy."

She elbowed him in the ribs, making him chuckle. "We ran into each other when I was walking around and started swapping stories."

"Da, dear Joyce and I were just discussing her journey here. I'm glad she had an easy trip."

"Yes, yes but- Oh! Vladimir your train!"

'Vladimir' gasped, pulling out a gold pocket watch to check the time. "Oh! I best be off! Good bye Alfred, До свидания сестра!" [1]

"До свидания, и берегите себя!" [2] she watched him dash off before giving Alfred a frown "Please excuse his sudden departure. He's had trouble with his memory since he was injured in the war."

"Oh, it's okay!" Alfred forced a smile, despite knowing that she would see right through it. He just couldn't fight the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind. "I understand."

Joyce gave him such a heartbreakingly kind smile, he didn't want to even think she had lied to him. So he forced darker thoughts from his mind, extending his arm to her. When she accepted it, he found himself pleased-

-yet scared.

"So, is that dress the only thing you own?"

"Hm? Oh, yes." she flushed. "I spent my savings on the ticket here."

"Is it _that_ expensive?"

"Yes. Russia is not very stable, prices change almost daily. .. If you're not lucky, you're on the bad side of the change."

"Well that won't do!" he felt his real smile return. "Come on, let's go get you some clothes!"

"Are you sure?!" she looked up at him in shock.

"Of course!" he grinned. "C'mon, let me have a chance to be a hero!"

Joyce smiled, giggling as she hugged his arm. "Oh you're so sweet…"

"I try~!" he winked, leading her along. The thoughts from only minutes before were gone, and he found himself enjoying her company again.

The duo walked along the street, Alfred commenting on different shops as the passed and attempting to teach her how to find her way in the city. But at one shop Joyce became suddenly rooted outside the window. Her guide stopped, looking in. It was a dress boutique, and as he looked at all the colors displayed inside he cringed.

"This one?"

"Is it okay?" she looked at him, clearly worried.

"Yeah it's fine." he nodded, taking her inside. "Choose whatever you want."

The woman frowned, but let go of him to look around through all the racks. He trailed behind, pointing out colors and patterns and styles he thought would look good on her. The other women in the shop almost seemed jealous as they sneered and sent glares their way, but he wasn't sure if it was because he was helping her, or because of the woman herself, with that great figure she had.

He decided to go with the latter, if only to keep from accidentally embarrassing himself.

"Go try those on." Alfred nudged her shoulder, wanting to think about something else.

"Where?" the woman looked around, but he soon had her pointed in the right direction. As soon as she was gone he looked around again until he came across a coat section. After poking about for a moment, he produced a lovely dark green trench coat which he quickly paid for. And just in time, as Joyce return a few minutes after.

"Well?"

"I like them." she smiled, then caught sight of the coat draped over his arm. "What is-?"

"A gift."

"Oh." Joyce seemed confused, but let him take the clothes from her to pay for. While the other ladies grumbled their not-so-hidden displeasure, Alfred handed her something: a brown skirt with a half-sleeve green top.

"Go put this on."

"Okay."

"When you're done, we're heading to see someone."

She flicked her hand at him, letting him know she had heard him. When she returned again he put her green dress in a bag with the other clothes, and helped her into her new coat before handing her her (oddly heavy) purse. He took her by the arm once more (the other held all of her things) before taking her back out onto the street. The woman followed quietly as he led her along, looking around at all the things around her. Alfred looked back just long enough to flash her a smile.

"You can't stay in a hotel forever, so I've asked a friend to pull some strings."

"What?"

"Well housing is pretty limited in New York right now, and pretty expensive. But I've gotten you moved to the top of the list."

"What?" she stopped. "Alfred-"

"No arguing. I'm going to help you out."

"Alfred! I need a place where my grandparents can live with me when they make it over!"

"No problem!" he stopped outside of a building. Upon opening the door, she was ushered inside where a handsome older gentleman was waiting. He gave the two a smile.

"Mr. Jones! Is this the young lady you were speaking of?"

"Yes. Frederick, this is Ms. Mcclain."

"Lovely to meet you dear." he dipped his head. "I understand you are looking for a place to live?"

"Yessir," she suddenly seemed very shy, hugging Alfred's arm tighter. "Uhm, my grandparents will be joining me in a month or so. I hope to be settled by then."

"Of course. Please, follow me."

[1] До свидания сестра - goodbye sister

[2] До свидания, и берегите себя! - Goodbye, and take care!


	4. Chapter 3: A Place of My Own

Chapter 3: A Place of My Own

Joyce looked around in shock as Alfred wandered around the nice little town house that had somehow become hers in the course of about thirty minutes, experiencing culture shock that left her rooted to the floor. Her friend all but shoved the keys in her hand, bringing her back to reality.

"It's _too big_," she turned to him. "What am I supposed to do with this much space?"

"It's only a three bedroom, but I have furniture for you to fill it up with, don't worry. "

"It's only three people! A one bedroom would have been more than enough!"

"Not going to happen! Unless you are completely alone, you're getting more than one room!" he grinned.

"Alright fine." she sighed.

"And don't worry about anything. All the furniture will be here tomorrow."

"Oh dear."

"Nothing too fancy, don't worry." Alfred laughed. "You mentioned a dog, so I _am_ planning accordingly."

"I'm sure Bosco will enjoy it anyway." she arched an eyebrow. "I'm… not too sure about accepting all this help from you though."

"Eh? Why?" he tilted his head. "What, are you going to tell me I'm helping _too_ much?"

"Well…" Joyce walked over to a window and opened it. "It's just… it's _odd_. You only met me yesterday, and yet now I have cloths and a home and… and _furniture_! I already know all Americans are _not_ like this, I met plenty before! What are you _gaining_ from this?"

"I-I'm not gaining anything!" he looked offended, but the suspicion stayed in her eyes. "I'm not!"

"How do I know?"

Alfred grabbed her hands, taking a step closer so he looked down on her. Joyce felt her suspicion melt away as she looked into his eyes, finding herself calming down. She allowed herself to relax and fall into his arms. Surprised, Alfred's hands shot to her waist and shoulders, holding her close as he tried to figure out what was going on. But then, he felt her start to shake, and his chest suddenly felt a little damp under his shirt.

"Hey, are you okay?" he hesitantly allowed himself to rest his cheek on the top of her head.

"I-I'm sorry." she sniffled. "It's just… No one has been so kind to me since Dimitri… Oh you remind me of him! I-I can't handle it…"

"Well… maybe I should go." he carefully pulled back, but kept a hand on her waist. "I'll come back later."

"You… you promise?"

"Of course. Try to rest."

"Okay…" she watched him turn and leave. The second he was gone she dashed over to where she had dropped her purse, only to open it and pull out a gold pocket watch very similar to the one Vladimir had had earlier in the day. Joyce ran her fingertips over the hammer and sickle on it, tearing up when she touched her father's name, forever engraved over the symbol of the Soviet.

"Oh… папа, что я буду делать?[1]" tears spilled over. "Я так потерян...[2]"

Alfred clenched his fists, staring at the door to Joyce's new home. From where he stood outside of it, he could hear her crying, slurring together her Russian and English as she seemingly prayed for help. He stood there, wanting to barge in and wrap her in his arms and keep her safe, but a part of him knew she wouldn't want him there. It had been clear in her eyes when he had held her only minutes ago that she was scared and angry and confused, and he didn't want to see that unnerving look anymore. That small, nagging feeling he had felt that morning returned, making him turn to finally leave.

_What if she had lied about Vladimir? What if she had lied about __everything__?_

'_What if she was… a Soviet?'_ he shook his head, quickly leaving the area. If one of McCarthy's spies were to find out he was still hanging around, they'd be after the girl in an instant. But Alfred couldn't help his curiosity. Afterall, McCarthy himself had sent him to the airport that day to meet his "special guest" in person.

The Russian girl in the green dress had arrived in New York, just as McCarthy had been told she would.

[1] папа, что я буду делать? - dad, what do I do?

[2] Я так потерян - I'm so lost...


	5. Chapter 4: Red

Chapter 4: Red

Alfred sighed as he watched the news, getting tired of all of the false Soviet reports that kept popping up because of Senator McCarthy. As the "Red Scare" influenced more and more of the American citizens, Alfred found himself with an increasingly worse view of his old ally and all he was doing. It was honestly very annoying having a clouded aspect on life.

"This can't end well man." he glared at the TV set, getting up to turn it off. It was making him sick, thinking that such an _idiot_ was actually swaying people into believing lies. It was no wonder any immigrants from Communist East Europe were getting singled out so _quickly_.

It scared him, to think that one man, one _human_ could change the opinion of an entire country so quickly was mind-blowing. Honestly, he felt so incredibly bad for Ludwig and Gilbert after this experience. He could now better understand why they did what they in the war without a second thought, yet regretted it so deeply that their minds blocked the harsher part of the memories from their minds.

Snapping out of his own little universe he turned on his heel to walk over to a nearby coat rack. He grabbed his bomber, pulling it on to walk out his door. Alfred shoved his hands in his pockets, walking out to find his shiny little Cadillac. It wasn't hard to find since he had the only one on the block, and it was bright red. The color had caused him a few problems, but only until he put the American flag on there.

After he finally made it out of his parking spot he was headed down the road. Yet he found himself somewhat distract as his mind wandered to a conversation he he had had about an hour earlier with Arthur.

'_We can't find any records, except of a woman named Kelly Mcclain, whom had a daughter. However she never married… Her daughter went missing after Kelly died.'_

"_And?"_

'_Later resurfaced in Russia where she was adopted by a worker from the Russian embassy by the name of Ivan Richoviech. Her Russian certificate gave her a Russian name-'_

Needless to say, Alfred was worried. Had Ivan lied to his "daughter"? Or was the information planted? He shook his head.

"It'll be fine," he muttered, pulling up to the curb outside of Joyce's home. "Right?"

Imagine his surprise, though, when he saw Vladimir fleeing from the house. Alfred leapt from his car, ignoring the fleeing man as he dashed inside. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he found the woman, collapsed in a heap beneath the front bay window. He gently wrapped his arms around her, but lurched back when she jumped away.

She was crying.

"A-Alfred!"

"Joyce! Are you okay?! Why was Vladimir here?!"

"He… he…!" she flung herself into his arms. "Oh Alfred! He was afraid!"

"What?"

"He-Vladimir! He wants me to turn myself over to your government! The Union thinks I'm an American spy! Vladimir says a Soviet is here, in New York after any defects from the Union!"

His blood ran cold. "Soviet?"

"Yes!" she held tight to him. "They went after Vladimir, and he only barely got away with his life! He tried going to the police but they wouldn't help him, so he came straight here to warn me!"

Alfred growled, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. She let out a squeak of pain, pushing against him until her let go. Joyce fell back, looking up in fear at the anger darkening his eyes. The man clenched his fists, but let his features soften when he saw how frightened she seemed to be.

"McCarthy's stirred up too much trouble. Anyone from Russia is a top target. You… You should be careful. If anyone were to find out about you-" his conversation with Arthur resurfaced in his mind, making him stop. The woman gasped as he lifted her to her feet, a smile suddenly on his face.

"Let's go find Vladimir."


	6. Chapter 5: Russian Lies

Chapter 5: Russian Lies

Vladimir sighed as he sat on a bench in the park, his hands clenched around his gold pocket watch. A cool autumn breeze blew his hair out of his unshaven face, revealing to the world the tears rolling down from his eyes. He lifted a hand, wiping the tears away, and just in time, as Joyce quietly sat beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder, not once looking at him as he leaned against her. Alfred stood by, feeling a little guilty for reasons he didn't know.

"I'm here Vladimir." she gently stroked his hair. "I'm here."

The man slipped his watch into his pocket. "You need to seek safety."

"I'll be fine. You, however, should come with me." she smiled softly. "Come back to my home."

"No, if they were to see me with you, even now-!"

"It _is_ alright." Joyce stood, pulling him with her. "Come, Alfred and I are here for you."

"Alfred?" Vladimir looked over to the blonde standing by his car. "The American would help me? Help us?"

"Yes Vladimir." she lead him over. "Alfred is a friend to us."

"Friend? Oh, of course." he allowed them to help him into the car, looking at them as they got in after. He watched as Alfred leaned over to whisper something to Joyce, who only responded with a nod. Before too long they were back at her house and Vladimir was helped out of the car just as he had been helped into it. The three quickly went inside, with Vladimir thanking them both as he took a seat on the stairs. Joyce sat with him, while Alfred, after looking around in disdain, leaned against the wall.

"Vladimir what happened?" Joyce rubbed his arm. "Why _are_ you upset? And don't say the attack, because I know that's not it."

"Oh Joyce, if only you were not correct. I am upset, dear child, because since the attack the guilt on my chest has been eating away at me worse than ever before. I can't bear it anymore, and it may be better this way, but it is time you were told."

"Told?" Alfred was really curious now. "So her life really is a lie?" the man stood straight under Joyce's shocked look.

"Not exactly, only her _lineage_ is false." he dipped his head. "Joyce you need to know the truth."

"Truth?" she stood, looking between the men who wouldn't meet her gaze.

Vladimir buried his face in his hand. "Joyce, Ivan was not your real father, but he was a close friend of your mother and helped raise you. After she died, he took you and fled Great Britain for the Motherland."

"Fled?" she looked slightly scared. "Why?"

"You would have been given to foster care, or worse. So he told the Russian government you were his, and asked them to put your new records under a Russian name."

"That's why-"

"Anastasia Ivanova." Alfred grimaced, gaining their attention.

Vladimir looked confused, but nodded. "Da, but he always called her Joyce, and used English to keep her from converting. Ivan didn't like the Soviet's way of life, so he became the ideal Soviet to avoid any problems. He moved you to his parent's house in Siberia, where they raised you into a lovely young Russian woman. A real _lady_." he sighed. "But after he died, they tried to change you."

"But…"

The American cleared his throat. "They wanted to convert her?"

"Exactly, and that's why they sent her to New York."

"They didn't send me! I chose to come here!" Joyce snapped, clearly upset, but seemed to think better of it when she shut up. Alfred looked at her, urging her to continue, but when she didn't he scoffed.

"So what will you two do now? Vladimir, if someone wants you dead-"

"That is exactly why I shouldn't be here." the man stood. "I need to leave. Alfred, take care of dear Joyce for me."

"Er, right?"

"Vladimir wait!" the woman followed him as he left. A few moments later she returned, teary eyed once again, to collapse on the stairs. Her friend sat beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder that she smacked away.

"You-! How did you know so much?!"

"I mentioned you to a friend I have in the UK. He got interested in your story…"

"Bloody lies!"

"He started digging. He said he was going to send me your records to help you get citizenship."

"Why on earth would- how could he access them?"

"The same way I can."

"That's not-"

"Any of your concern." his tone was curt, eyes narrowed, looking down on her. "Get some rest Joyce. Your furniture will be here tomorrow so let's try to put today behind us."

Joyce watched him leave, shutting her door behind him. Holding in a shudder she went over to her bags of new things and began to shuffle them up the stairs.


	7. Chapter 6: Arrest

Chapter 6: Arrest

He had kept his promise: early the next day men with trucks had arrived. Under Alfred's watchful eye the new bright and odd shaped furniture was placed, the colors helping to liven up the place.

"We'll get some new carpet and wallpaper for you." he had said as had rounded up the men to leave. "Settle in, and think about some colors. I'll be back later."

She had watched him drive away, before taking his advice and settling down on a plush green couch. Joyce had just started to relax when a fierce pounding started on her door. She stood, walking over to answer it when her blood ran cold.

Something was not right: she had goosebumps.

Fighting her instinct to run, she opened the door and the men (a pair of police officers) standing there a smile.

"Good evening officers!" they were clearly on edge. "What do you need?"

"Ms. Mcclain?"

"Yes?" she tilted her head, making her smile softer. "Can I help you?"

"We need you to come with us." one of the men grabbed her arm.

"First of all, ow, deary that hurts. I'm not going to run, so do you mind loosening up? Secondly, why?"

"You're under arrest."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me, pinko."

"Pin- why I never!" her innocent look was gone in an instant. "How dare you compare me to those filthy Soviets?!"

"Oh please." one scoffed.

"Drop the act." the other rolled his eyes, dragging her down the steps.

"What act mate?!" she hissed, watching her neighbors gather on the sidewalk or in their windows to watch what was happening. "You bloody yanks are making a mistake!"

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Alfred growled as he stalked out of his office in the Congressional building, heading for the parking lot where the senators kept their cars during the cursed under his breath as he made his way to one car in particular, slamming his heel down on the rear bumper as it tried to back out of its spot. The passenger climbed out, glaring daggers at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"No, Senator McCarthy, what the hell are you doing? This morning two NY police officers showed up at the townhouse where that girl is currently living, and dragged her from the place! What is up with you and all your bullshit, huh? First you tell me that she's the daughter of an important person that I should help out for a bit, then you turn around the next day and tell me she's listed on a watchlist, and now you have her arrested in broad daylight for suspectedly being a Soviet spy?! Make up your mind McCarthy!"

"Oh, so you're here about the Mcclain woman?" he rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you were here about something that was actually important."

"I am! I'm here to demand her release!"

"No."

"She's not a Soviet!"

"That answer is still no, America."

"She's not a threat!"

"She could be."

"Then I'll take responsibility for her."

"I won't - wait, what?"

"I'll take responsibility." Alfred crossed his arms. "Release her into my care."

"Why would you care about the life of one filthy pinko over another?"

"She's a British born girl with a bit of an attitude, but that's about it."

"...You know what, fine. Take the girl, go ahead."

* * *

Joyce snarled as a NYP officer pushed her forward, right into Alfred's arms as he lurched to catch her. The man cut his eyes at her, taking the papers from her death glaring 'savior'.

"Mr. America are you sure you want to-"

"Ms. Mcclain is my _friend_. I don't care about your worry."

Joyce looked up at him in surprise, allowing him to carefully escort her to his car. "America?"

"Ye-ah." he smiled nervously, helping her in. "Kinda didn't want you to find out this way…"

"What?"

"Well," he quickly got behind the wheel. "I'm… kinda the human representation of the United States."

"...Oh you have got to be kidding me…"


	8. Chapter 7: I Can't Do This!

Chapter 7: I Can't Do This!

Alfred smiled slightly as he walked through the front door of Joyce's townhouse, setting his suitcase down to remove his coat and shoes. The woman approached to take the things away, putting them in the hall closet. She was clearly upset, but Alfred wasn't even about to attempt to comfort her.

Not after seeing her pitch a fit the previous day, when she found out who he really was. She had even swore at him in multiple languages.

"I hope we can get back to our normal lives soon. At least for your sake."

"Tch," she frowned. "My normal life is out the window. The neighbors saw what happened yesterday."

"Oh well. It'll all settle down eventually." he moved his suitcase to stand beside the stairs. "Don't worry."

"I don't think I can help it, America." oh, so she _was_ still pouting.

"Joyce-" he broke off as she disappeared to the kitchen, sighing before he gave in and went for the couch.

Joyce was sighing as well, leaning over the sink before deciding to prepare lunch. She threw together something simple, but couldn't help the slight smirk when Alfred's eyes lit up upon seeing the tray appear in front of him.

"Thanks!"

"Yeah." he watched her sit beside him, putting the tray between them. They ate in silence, but he soon broke it.

"I forgot. You need groceries, don't you?"

"A few would be nice."

"I'll head out and get some then." Alfred smiled, getting to his feet as soon as he had finished eating. Minutes later he was gone, and she was cleaning up. But then the sound of her house phone ringing distracted her. Joyce walked over to answer it, and when she did her pulse dropped.

{_Hello sestra_} it was the commander from Moscow. {_Ты один?_} [1]

"Da." she held the phone closer to her ear, her heart beating against her ribs in fear.

{_How are things going? According to plan, da?_}

"Not… quite."

{_...Elaborate. It may mean your life._}

She froze, not sure what to do. Her thoughts flashed to Vladimir, and his attempted murder. There was indeed a Soviet in New York, and he was operating under orders.

She needed to proceed carefully.

"I was arrested under suspicion of being a spy. I've already been released, but I'll have to lay low for a while. I don't… want to risk our mission."

{_Of course, of course sestra!_} the voice purred. {_But, why were you released so easily?_}

"I made a friend. He's been very useful to _our_ cause."

{_Does he suspect?_}

"Not at all."

{_Keep him around. He may be a useful shield._}

"Of course."

{..._From this point on you will operate under radio silence. Good luck, sestra._}

"Thank you." her hand felt heavy as she replaced the phone. She couldn't help it.

She sat down and cried.


	9. Chapter 8: Silence of the Damned

Chapter 8: Silence of the Damned

Joyce sang quietly to herself as she listened to Alfred putting away groceries in the kitchen below her. She was less than excited about having to go rejoin him below, the guilt churning in her gut was making her physically sick, and she wasn't sure how long she could last. He was just too nice to her, there was no way she could keep lying to him.

But she had to.

She tensed when Alfred came up the stairs, knocking on the door before peeking in. "How about steaks tonight? Sound good?"

"Mmhmm, sounds lovely" Joyce gave him a smile, and got to her feet. But she stumbled, and Alfred caught her, only to put her on her bed. He checked her forehead, and gave her a frown.

"You have a fever."

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Stay in bed."

"But-"

"Stay." the man turned to leave but paused when he heard her mutter.

"I'm not sick, I'm just worried…"

"Why?" he turned to her again, and watched her roll over so her back was to him.

"Everything… Grandma and grandpa are coming here soon, your government is singling out everyone from Russia, and I'm here with you, the country who is the symbol of freedom… How can I explain to them that we're safe with you, when the rest of the country is against us?"

"I have a feeling that's not what you really want to know." Alfred walked over, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know what's going on in your life, but Joyce, if you're running from something, you can tell me."

"I wish I could be sure of that…" she murmured, making him shake his head before he left. He knew she was hiding things from him, he had known since the beginning, sure, but now he was certain it was something dark. _Maybe they're using her against her will? Or maybe… maybe she used them to get over here, and now has to figure out to escape them._

Alfred walked down to the kitchen, and busied himself making soup for the woman in the room above. He thought over everything that had happened since Joyce had arrived, all her little quirks, the things she said, and… held close… his gaze wandered to the purse she had left on the nearby table. He listened out for her, then walked over to it. His hand shook as he reached out to it, slowly opening it and casting a final look over his shoulder before he began to rummage through it. Inside was a gold pocket watch, which was the only thing that caught his eye. He pulled it out, and examined it closely.

It was a Soviet, with the U.S.S.R.'s beloved hammer and sickle standing proudly in the center with the motto of the Union engraved below it. But when he opened it, and examined the inside, he was shocked to see some messily carved words inside.

"Don't… fight for the… for the motherland…" he tilted it more into the light. "use it… to get you… out… and to s… safety… Love… your dear…" he squinted. "father…"

"He always wanted me to have a better life." the sound of Joyce's voice made him jump, and turn to look at her. He was clearly floundering for an excuse, but she shook head. "I heard it fall and came down to make sure the watch wasn't broken."

"It's… not." he snapped it closed and put it back in her purse, feeling guilty that he had snooped through her things. "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful."

"It's alright." her look softened, and she walked over to zip her purse closed. "You can't help that you're clumsy."

"I'm not that bad!" he gave her a pout, but felt himself relax when she only laughed at him. Joyce had calmed down again, and now stood in front of him with that dazzling smile on her face. But as he moved away to dish out the soup, her smile fell, and she turned her gaze to the floor.

"Alfred… I… I need to tell you the truth…"

"Didn't I ask you to already?" he glanced over his shoulder before turning off the stove and carrying a pair of bowls over to the table. "Joyce, I swear by status as the United States of America, I will help you."

"That's funny because… well…" she shuffled her feet before lifting her gaze to him again. "The only reason they sent me over here, the only reason it was _allowed_… was so that I could become one of the spies the Soviet Union has planted in your borders-

-I was sent to become a member of a growing sleeper cell."


	10. Chapter 9: Changes

Chapter 9: Changes

"I was sent to become a member of a growing sleeper cell." Joyce looked less than enthusiastic, and hung her head as soon as the words left her mouth. "I just wanted to get out of the Union, get away from all the trouble over there, and try to live the rest of my life in peace, but the only way to secure a passport and get out of the country without being labeled a deserter, is to have the government give it to you."

"The government… but why?"

"If I had tried to leave without their backing, my grandparents would have been slaughtered for harbouring a traitor." her voice was beginning to crack, like she was fighting back tears. "All I had to do was wait until they were over here with me, then I could turn myself over to your government and try to get a deal, hand over whatever information I had learned to try and lessen my sentence… But my handlers are being careful, they're-" she cut off when her phone began to ring.

Alfred gave her look, still trying to wrap his head around what had just been told, but stood when she did and followed her to the phone. Her hand shook as she picked it up, and Alfred leaned in close to listen.

{_Hello sestra_. _Ты один?_}

"Da." she cut her eyes at Alfred. "I wasn't expecting a call so soon."

{_I just thought you should know only your grandmother will be arriving in New York this Friday. Your grandfather died of a heart attack about an hour ago._}

Joyce bit her lip. "A heart attack? Poor babushka must be devastated…"

{_She surely is. And you should act just the same when you see her._}

"Of course."

{_And one more thing sestra. That man you mentioned as being a help to you? Do whatever you must to keep him nearby. A dear friend of mine may just pay him a visit if he wanders off too far._}

Alfred felt his blood run cold when Joyce only replied with a simple 'da'. After exchanging goodbyes she hung up her phone, and proceeded to drop to her knees with tears running down her face.

"Dedushka!" she choked on a sob, lifting her hands to cover her face. Not knowing what else to do, and no matter how unsettled he was, Alfred kneeled beside her, and brought her into a hug. He stroked her hair as her arms wrapped around him, burying her face in his shoulder. His shirt grew damp from her tears, and her body shook against him with every choked sob, but he didn't let her go until she pulled away, pulling a handkerchief out of her shirt to damb her eyes, sniffling.

Her eyes were red and puffy and her nose was running, but Alfred hardly noticed as his hand gently cupped her cheek. "Joyce… you really didn't want to be a part of this… did you?"

"No!" she choked on the word. "I just wanted to live somewhere safe, somewhere I didn't have to worry about looking over my shoulder everytime I leave the house but oh! This friend must be the one who tried to kill Vladimir! If he was able to get so close to such a well trained soldier I wouldn't have a chance to defend myself! And now babushka is preparing to come over here?! Her kind heart would give out at the thought of me getting into this mess! And now I've brought you into it as well!"

Alfred felt his heart split when she started to cry again. "I brought myself into this mess… Joyce, that senator that had you arrested? He's the reason I was at the airport that day, but he told me you were somebody very important, somebody I should do whatever I could to help along. Then you got arrested, and I found out the real reason he told me to look after you. He had been suspicious of you since your name appeared on his radar. And truth be told… I kinda was too…" he saw her look up, and gently wiped her tears away. "But Joyce, you were so nice and gentle… I didn't want to believe it. So I had him turn you over into my care. That's how I got you out of jail that day…"

"Is… Is that true? Then the entire time you were being so kind to me was-"

"My own choice. He might have told me to help you along, but he never said what I should do to help. Everything I did for you was my own choice and to be honest… I didn't mind doing it at all." he gave her a gentle smile. "But now that your little friend in Russia has a spot for my head, I think it's time I changed address, and you changed nationalities."

"What?" she looked confused now, but let him help her to her feet. He put his hand on her waist and led her back to the kitchen, pausing momentarily at the hall closet to get his briefcase. Once she was seated in a chair, he opened the case and pulled out a stack of papers.

"This are the immigration papers for a political refugee. Fill them out and I'll turn them in with my personal seal of approval. Once your grandma is here, I'll do the same for her." he smiled and handed her a pen. "You'll be an American citizen, and no longer under the thumb of the Soviets."

"But if they find out they may keep babushka from reaching the US."

"I won't turn them in until she's here." his smile softened, and he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I promise I'll make sure she gets here safely, if I have to fly over there and get her myself!"

Joyce nodded slowly, and began to fill out the papers. "You're taking this awfully well considering I just told you I was here as a Soviet spy."

"I kinda figured you were hiding something like that since I first met you." he gave a sheepish grin, which then fell into a look of confused curiosity. "By the way, that story you told me when we had dinner… was it true?"

"It was, except the part about my father, apparently…" she frowned. "And I did mean it when I told you that you remind me of Dimitri."

"I'm sure that's a compliment."

"It is."


End file.
